Friday, December 29, 2006

I’m guessing it’s that feeling of sadness and longing to be home with family and friends.

Hello control dramas, my trusted friend!

Still, in my state of destitution, in the face of all my fashion transgressions, as my spa/sauna-deprived circumstances, I am thankful.

My nomadic, adorable Filipino friends in Port Moresby keep me at bay from insanity-ville. My Caucasian comrades keep me intoxicated every so often and have them to thank for things like yacht in social vocabulary.

I might exploit this into a long, mushy, rambling story. I better do something else.

Monday, October 30, 2006

It was our first heated argument. At the Burger King, of all places. Somewhere at Seoul’s gay district—we had our very first conversation without any mention of Miss Dominican Republic’s national costume for last years’ Miss Universe.

Some remark I made on his lover from few lovers ago ricocheted as retaliatory I-hate-this-and-that-about-you. Like a tong-its game (gin & rummy) in your neighborhood wake abundant with M.Y. San crackers and commoners’ coffee, things went hardcore and hate cards were laid.

Consciously, we’ve been avoiding any altercations on matters that matter. Like that homo sitcom, we were Will and Grace, Karen and Jack: spatting over the artistic merits of Bata Bata Paano ka Ginawa versus Titanic, what is the capital of Gabon, our waist lines and other people’s non-gym-going waist lines, commuting on jeepneys and my I-don’t-eat-at-food courts policy. It’s comfortable stuff only.

It’s as like as chalk and cheese this time: embarrassed stares, wrinkled noses. We said things to each other that we meant to say ages ago. Things we never thought the need to discuss them may arise…like Ever Bilena on cosmetics.

I’m not going to write about it though. I tell about other people too much.

Here’s what I can share though:

One is ever grateful to the heavens for a best friend with 1. two co-dependent nervous systems—for his penis and for himself, 2. with a taste for the mongoloid-ish oriental boys which cuts down any competition between us, and 3. with a twisted understanding of love but with the generosity to parade his broken heart and sore, sometimes violated ass once or twice once and again to set example to the likes of me who understands the game of love less.

Friday, June 2, 2006

“Merry Christmas my dearest Bryan, although I did not expect you to be back in my life, much less hope you’d be with me again…and talking, laughing and spending time with you, at that moment was way out of mind. But…that night when you texted [sic] me, … that night when I called you twice and finally talked to you…that moment for me was no less than perfect. It’s one of the moments in my life that I’ll never forget. The timing was perfect. The FEELING was perfect. I couldn’t ask for anything more. For what it’s worth, I smiled the whole night after that, and I don’t know why. I just closed my eyes and it felt good. So needless to say, I gave it another chance and one thing led to another, I knew it…I knew it that I love you.

You take care of me, treat me extra special, and you make me laugh… A LOT.

Going thru all this trouble for you is nothing simply because I love you. I know you know what I mean. I love you so much.

Of course its difficult, even hard at times not being able to spend time with you. Everyday without you is such a ++++. So all I can do sometimes is fantasize about you. Parang yung kanta ng The Platters ba yun? Whenever I want you, all I have to do is …dream… dream, dream, dream.

Kasi I know when we finally are together again, pag yakap na kita ulit… everything will be perfect again. Nothing else will matter for a while.

Monday, May 8, 2006

Rivers shocked the Logies audience when she said "I don't know why the fuck I'm here.”---

How can a 72-year old woman make you laugh? She has to be Joan Rivers, period.

Half-sober Rivers presented an award at the Logies (the Australian equivalent of the Emmy Awards) and was unsurprisingly consistently herself.

She said “fuck” twice live on national TV, made fun of the Tom-Katie-Suri craze and chastised the Aussie people to “grow up”.

Joan Rivers was awarded with a complementary trophy, a pink one! [silver trophies are given to category winners while the the gold Logie is awarded to the most Popular TV personality of the year] After the co-presenter handed her the special Logie, there was a short applause from the dining crowd. And while delivering her “I’m-so-touched” line, she threw the pink monstrosity across her shoulder, the thing went rolling on the stage while Joan nonchalantly proceeded with her presenting duties.

Everyone went ape laughing.

Instead of reading out the nominees she stooped down to pick-up the trophy, waved it to everyone and announced that they can post a bid for it at E-bay the next day.

She then complained “it’s the most disgusting trophy I ever received”.

The whole thing was so hilarious I almost forgot about how blandly (a few of them—horrendously) dressed most of the Aussie TV stars were.

But I’ll be diplomatic and will keep the rest of my Logies 2006 red-carpet thoughts to myself. Papua New Guinea is still an Australian lair. This aint neutral ground!

Wednesday, April 19, 2006

Me: Hail Mary full of grace the Lord is with you, blessed are you among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb Jesus.Dad: Holy Mary mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of my death amen.

Me: Hail Mary full of grace the Lord is with you, blessed are you among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb Jesus.Dad: Holy Mary mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of my death amen.

Me: Hail Mary full of grace the Lord is with you, blessed are you among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb Jesus.Dad: Holy Mary mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of my death amen

Wednesday, March 22, 2006

I never said Lamana parties are cheap shindigs. The first time I went there I was so bored I died way before I could give the place a fair appraisal.

I can’t afford Spain to be an Ibiza party-file, and I’m a US visa short to hang around Miami either. Exposure wise, I am no where close to being a party diva, and I refuse to be regarded as one either even if people suffer agitation on my recent non-appearance at Port Moresby’s apparent disco Mecca.

Lamana or the people who enjoy themselves there are NOT cheap. If in my many nights of insobriety I happen to say such a horrible but not totally impossible thing, then accept this post as my official recantation.

Friday, March 17, 2006

I have a small bed. Good enough for just one person and good enough for me—in Port Moresby anyway.

I wonder how Ces dozes a non-alcoholic night away when she’s got an entire outback of space in her king-sized bed. I’ll find it daunting if I were her. Hell, every toss and turn is a reminder that there’s no one to nudge and grumble “move over fart!” at.

---

A few weeks ago, I had dinner with Ces.

Struggling with her chopsticks, she asked me: “WHEN will I be truly happy?” I wanted to tell her to visit the furniture shop. But I didn’t wish to go all too cynical before my tempura. I faked a sigh instead.

---

An ex told me that happiness is a state of mind. I didn't understand what he meant. I was 16 going on 17 then (21, if you really want to know the truth).

I gather that happiness doesn’t come in one she-bang. Not in one lump-sum. It comes in pieces. You have to see to it that each piece will make life bearable, a bit like a game of tetris. Bricks of assorted shapes trickle one after another for you to sort out. Sometimes you get the easily maneuverable pieces and sometimes you get the tricky odd-shaped ones like the crosses, T's or the L's. You just have to be smart about it to score points.

---

After the dinner my phone rang and it’s midnight-caller/stalker on the other line, offering his bed for the night.

I sighed (this time it’s genuine), wished him a good night (not) and for the nth time refused his offer.

---

That night I slept in my small bed with caveman, croc and a 100 unread pages of Sharon Creech.

About Me

Bryan Anthony

lansones is my favorite fruit. the rest of the things that i like, are waiting at 5th avenue windows.
one day i travelled to eckhart tolle's earth.
since then each lansones tastes sweeter than the last yellow fruit.